


One Could Do Worse

by Em_Jaye



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Swingers, Undercover Missions, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:33:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: “So, is…this your first time here?” he asked finally when the silence got to be too much.She exhaled another quiet laugh and seemed to be fighting for what she wanted to say as her mouth opened. “Uh, yeah. Here,” she added after a pause. “But we—uh—do this…all the time though,” she nodded and coughed. “Elsewhere.”Steve fought to keep his mouth in a straight line as he nodded and let another moment of silence pass through the room before he spoke. “I’ve never done this either” he admitted, happy to be telling the truth.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Johnny Storm, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 126
Kudos: 195





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grimeysociety](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/gifts).



> This was going to be a birthday gift, but I am too impatient and I want to gift it to my lady love, @grimeysociety, early because we're in love and that's the beginning and end of everything. 
> 
> \---
> 
> I also realize this is the second time I've written about swingers parties and. Well. I have nothing to say for myself in that regard.

i.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?”

It wasn’t the first time Steve had asked his partner that question in the five years they’d shared a desk and he knew it wouldn’t be his last. It likely wouldn’t even be the last time he asked her that day.

“Because you know it’s a better idea,” Romanoff said as she flipped down the visor on the passenger side to study her reflection in the mirror. She reapplied her crimson lipstick and pouted her full lips for a second before she turned to look at him. “How do I look, honey?”

Steve sighed. “Don’t call me that.”

“Would you prefer something else?” she grinned wickedly for a moment. “Sugar? Puppy?” Her eyebrows lifted. “Big Daddy?”

“I will go home right now if you try that shit,” he said, shaking his head with a hollow laugh. Every part of him was saying this was a bad idea. He should have disagreed back at the precinct when Nat had raised her hand during the briefing and brought up the change of plans.

“We should go as a couple,” she’d said, glancing in his direction.

“Why’s that?” Sam had asked and crossed his arms over his chest.

“If we’re supposed to be gathering intel, then it makes more sense to split up. And since the whole point of these little parties are for couples to split up…” she let her intention hang in the air over the briefing room before she cleared her throat and was all-business again in a second. “We’ll cover more ground and be able to tell if this where the deals are going down.”

Sam had stared at her. “But you know if you split up—”

“Yeah,” she’d shrugged. “I know. Nothing I can’t handle.” Her eyes flicked back to him for a second. “Rogers? That gonna be too big of a problem for you?”

And Steve had said no at the briefing. Had accepted this undercover assignment without a fuss because that’s what he did. That’s what he always did. And because he knew, in his heart, that it wasn’t a big deal. There were worse things than what they were going to do here and certainly greater sacrifices they could be asked to make in order to break up this ring of suspected drug traffickers and put a few of them behind bars.

But now, parked in front of Norman’s Osborn’s weekend home with his stomach in an unfamiliar knot, Steve was no longer feeling quite so unruffled as he’d been in the briefing. He looked in the rearview mirror. “Where’d you park?”

Natasha pointed to her little red sports car across the street and a few spaces behind his. “Just over there.” She flipped the visor back into place and picked up her pocketbook. “Let’s roll, partner. We’ve stalled long enough.”

He took a deep breath and forced himself into the character she’d created for him. He let her slip her hand into his as they made their way up the marble driveway and smiled politely while she purred an introduction to the doorman, handing over the invitation their lieutenant had secured for them.

Steve started scanning the house as soon as they were over the threshold. Everyone here looked rich. Maybe not Osborn-rich, but wealthy enough that they didn’t blanch at the labels on the drinks they were being served. They didn’t have any trouble walking around in what looked like designer clothes and expensive shoes.

And they didn’t look like the kind of people he usually arrested.

But five years in Narcotics had peeled away most of his assumptions about who and what passed for a drug dealer these days. In fact, when the tip had come in that Norman Osborn—Washington DC’s beloved son and host of the annual Christmas toy drive for the city’s orphans—was hosting swingers parties with influential couples as a way to secure new avenues of distribution for the drugs they hadn’t yet been able to tie him to, Steve had barely blinked.

“Here,” Natasha pressed a snifter of whiskey into his hand. “Have a drink and loosen up,” she said in a tight whisper. “You’re supposed to be here for a good time.”

Steve was momentarily distracted by the perfectly clear square of ice in the drink she’d just handed him. It looked like it was cut out of glass. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m here.”

“I know it’s not your idea of a good time but—”

“I said I’m here,” he cut her off. “I’m good.” The block of ice bumped his teeth when he threw back the shot. It burned his throat pleasantly and helped him refocus on his scan of the small crowd. “I thought there’d be more people here,” he muttered.

“No point in being an exclusive party if everyone’s invited,” Natasha reminded before she took a sip of her own glass. “We should mingle,” she glanced at her watch. “I imagine we’ve got some time before the fun starts.”

 _The fun_. The words bounced around in his brain while he let his partner take his hand again and lead him around the room. The fun for him would be when this was all over, and he was free to go home at the end of a long week and hang out with his dog.

It was over an hour by the watch he pretended he wasn’t checking. Seventy-three minutes of mingling, fake laughter, and dropping party guests into two baskets: _Suspicious_ and _Clueless._ Though Steve noticed that Natasha didn’t glare or dig her nails into his palm in agitation again, so he thought he must have done an okay job of feigning interest in the small talk he had to make, first with a couple who looked like they lived at the gym ( _Clueless_ ), and then with a hedge fund manager ( _Always suspicious)_ and his wife who acted like Natasha was an old friend and couldn’t wait to tell her about how essential oils had changed her life _(Extra suspicious)_.

It was a mercy that she was interrupted only a few minutes into her pitch by the sound of clinking crystal. The low murmur of the crowd quieted as they all turned to find their host at the back of the room. “Welcome, my friends,” Norman Osborn greeted, his voice slid through the space like oil, clinging and slippery. “I hope you’re all having a good time. My lovely wife just informed me that all invitations have been collected, which means there’s no need to keep pretending you’re all here for the booze and conversation.” Polite laughter rippled through the room.

Steve wished someone would start shooting. Blow something up. Turn this gathering into something he wouldn’t loathe with every fiber of his being.

Osborn kept talking. “Ladies, when you arrived, you were asked for your keys,” he reminded them in that overly affected silky voice. A woman appeared at his side in a dress so tight that looked like it had been poured over her body. She held a large bowl with a dozen sets of car keys. “I assure you there are plenty of rooms for everyone,” Osborn added, good naturedly. “Though if you want to go somewhere more private, you’re always free to do so.” He motioned to the woman to start circulating the room. “Ladies, when you see the lucky man with the pleasure of your company this evening, do let him know.”

“No wallflowers allowed,” his assistant joked as she made her way around the room, encouraged by another flutter of chuckles. It wasn’t until she was closer that Steve realized it was Osborn’s wife. The file had said she was younger, but Steve was shocked by just _how_ young. At most, he would have guessed she was twenty-five. A sharp contrast to the fifty-ninth birthday her husband had just celebrated. “Come on, handsome,” she cooed up at him, holding out the bowl. “Don’t be shy.”

He blinked and shook his head. “Right,” he forced a smile and reached his hand inside, closing his fingers around the first keychain he felt and lifting it out from the others. “No wallflowers allowed,” he repeated tightly.

Natasha waited for the child bride to move onto the next couple before she raised herself up onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips to his. “Get what you can without being suspicious,” she warned.

“You too,” he countered and then bent to kiss her cheek so he could add. “Be careful.”

His partner squeezed his hand. “Always, Big Daddy,” she smirked before she left him with a wink to wander over to a man with dark hair and an impeccably trimmed goatee. Steve rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to flip her off before he looked down and stared at the keys in his hand. Three silver keys and one brass and only two keychains. One charm shaped like a hand with an open eye engraved in the palm and the other, a silver sword about as long as his thumb.

A shadow fell over his hand and he looked up to find himself looking into the blue eyes of a curvy brunette. Only a little taller than Natasha and with an ocean of dark curls and full red lips that kept drawing his eye. Especially when she smiled shyly and pushed her hair away from her face. “Those are mine,” she pointed to his palm.

“I’m Steve,” he blurted out before he could stop and remember if they were using their real first names on this particular mission. They were, his mind assured him after a second’s recollection. Different last names only. “It’s nice to meet you,” he went on, unsure if he should offer his hand for her to shake.

“Darcy,” she pointed to herself and laughed softly. Her nerves were obvious and endearing. It put him instantly at ease. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” She took back her keys when he offered them and glanced in the direction of the closest staircase. “Do you want to…”

“Sure,” he said quickly. _A little too quickly,_ he chastised himself before he coughed. “If you want.”

She made a motion that was halfway between a shrug and a nod and started for the stairs. Steve did his best not to stare at her ass as she led the way up to the second floor. It was hard not to at least admire her hourglass figure in the little black dress that swished around her thighs when she walked and looked like it might be soft to the touch.

His chest tightened at the realization of what he was going to do and he rubbed his palms against his sleeves when they started to sweat. How had he let Natasha talk him into this? This wasn’t him. This wasn’t even undercover him.

When the idea of infiltrating one of these parties had first been floated his way, the plan was that he and Nat would pair off at this part of the evening and leave together to compare notes on what intel they’d gathered. Now he was on his way upstairs to have anonymous sex with someone he didn’t know but who, he could tell, had no idea what kind of company she was in at a Norman Osborn party.

How the hell was he supposed to write a report on this? What kind of information was Nat expecting him to gather at this point?

“Any preference?”

The question stopped his racing brain and forced him back to the present, where Darcy had stopped at the top of the stairs and turned back. Her full bottom lip pulled just slightly between her teeth. He shook his head. “Preference?”

She twirled her finger in reference to the handful of doors still ajar. “I’m personally in the market for something without a mirror over the bed but,” she shrugged. “I could be flexible.”

He forgot to be nervous once he realized she was both serious and making a joke. He felt himself smile. “No ceiling mirrors,” he repeated with a nod. “I’m sure we can handle that.”

It was only slightly more difficult than he thought it would be, but a search made much more pleasant by the way Darcy giggled when the first two doors he opened did not fit the bill. She followed him into the third room and closed and locked the door behind herself. “No mirrors,” she noted, pointing toward the high ceiling. “No…swings or torture racks…” she nodded and met his gaze. “I can work with this.”

It surprised him how much better he felt seeing her smile. She was still noticeably nervous as she sat on the edge of the huge bed and lifted her feet in and out of her black high heels. He didn’t know how close he was supposed to get. How close she wanted him to be at this point. He chose to lean against the dresser a few feet away. “So, is…this your first time here?” he asked finally when the silence got to be too much.

She exhaled another quiet laugh and seemed to be fighting for what she wanted to say as her mouth opened. “Uh, yeah. Here,” she added after a pause. “But we—uh—do this…all the time though,” she nodded and coughed. “Elsewhere.”

Steve fought to keep his mouth in a straight line as he nodded and let another moment of silence pass through the room before he spoke. “I’ve never done this either” he admitted, happy to be telling the truth.

Darcy looked up, her cheeks pink. She opened her mouth as if to lie and say he had her all wrong but closed it again. She seemed to relax a little bit and let out a breath. “I don’t know why that makes me feel better,” she said quietly, glancing down once before she looked up again. “But it does.”

He took a chance and crossed to sit beside her, keeping plenty of space between them. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he reminded her. “If you just want to…”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “I’m sorry I’m so nervous. I want to be here,” she said firmly. “I do. I just…” another breath left her in a rush. “Maybe we could just talk for a minute?”

He smiled again when he nodded. “I’d like that,” he said before he cleared his throat. “Tell me something about yourself,” he suggested. “What do you do for a living?”

Whatever she said would buy him time to remember his own cover story—the details of which has started to turn fuzzy in his memory the moment he’d set eyes on her. Darcy’s lips pursed together briefly before she answered. “I’m an astrophysicist.”

His eyebrows jumped. “Seriously?” She nodded, looking like she was expecting him to disagree, but he only laughed. “I’ve…never met an astrophysicist before,” he confessed, feeling like an idiot. “I don’t even know what the follow up to that is—what kind of work do you do? What’s your specialty?”

Her smile brightened and he watched her relax even further. “I work at the Smithsonian,” she said with a hint of pride that put a fresh blossom of pink in her cheeks. “And mostly I repair equipment that gets broken at the ISS,” she laughed lightly. “But my specialty is actually in developing tools to scan for and interpret atmospheric anomalies, looking for possible methods of communication.” She waited a beat while Steve felt his face go blank. “I’m checking to see if aliens are trying to talk to us.”

He grinned, happy for the layman’s terms and more than a little impressed. “Are they?”

Darcy’s nose wrinkled when she laughed this time and shook her head. “That’s classified, Steve.”

He had the urge to kiss her then. To thread his hand into her dark hair and pull her lips to his and see what she’d do. But he wanted her to keep talking, too. To hear her laugh again, preferably at something he’d said, but he wasn’t going to be picky. He tried to remember the last time he’d felt this way—genuinely charmed, bordering on enchanted by someone.

She dropped her left hand to lean back on it, sliding further up onto the bed and out of her shoes in the process. Steve’s attention narrowed to the sparkling square diamond sitting on her ring finger and his stomach clenched and force him to remember what he was doing here. What _she_ was doing here. They weren’t on a date. She wasn’t his to be so taken with.

“What do you do?” she asked, sounding so genuinely interested that Steve felt guilty for having to lie.

“I’m in private security,” he said, returning to the script. “Not as exciting as talking to aliens, I’m afraid.”

But her eyes lit up anyway. “Do you ever have to act as a bodyguard?” she asked. “For…famous people or senators or people like that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, surprised to again be telling the truth. Capitol Hill frequently borrowed its extra muscle from the Metro PD. “Politicians, mostly.”

She looked even more intrigued. “Are any of them divas?”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s classified, Darcy.”

She snorted quietly and covered her nose and mouth with a hand, her cheeks pink again before she sobered. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, hoping it wasn’t something he’d have to lie about.

“The uh, the redhead you came here with,” she asked carefully. “That’s your…wife? Girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend,” he said, jumping back into character. “She, uh,” he shifted in place. Nat had told him to tell people she was insatiable if anyone asked what brought them to the swingers’ scene. But she’d said it with that smirk she always wore when she was busting his balls. “She wanted to try something new,” he said finally, settling on something he could be comfortable lying about.

Darcy nodded, her lips pursed. “My fiancé, too,” she admitted, glancing down as she pulled her hands together and her thumb twisted her diamond so that it was facing her palm. It seemed like there was something else she wanted to say, but she held back and looked up again. “Thanks for being so nice,” she said before she laughed, her nervousness back. “I didn’t really know what to expect with all this…”

“Me either,” he said, which was true. “Can I—” he stopped himself, the words surprising him with how quickly they fell off his tongue, pausing just long enough to realize she’d started to ask the same thing. “Sorry,” he smiled. “Go ahead. Can you what?”

“I was, um,” the tip of her tongue ran along her bottom lip before she cleared her throat. “Wondering if I could kiss you.”

Steve felt his gut flip like he was a teenager again. He smiled for a second before he reached across the space between them and covered her lips with his. She kissed him back immediately, holding his face in her hands for a moment before her nails slid into his hair. His hands went to her waist and then dropped to her hips, pulling her closer almost without him realizing it. She was warm and soft, and her dress bunched easily in his hands; her lips parted easily for him and she let out a sound of satisfaction that cut straight through him when he stroked his tongue over hers.

Her hands dragged down his neck and over his chest before her nails dug into his shoulders and she pulled herself into his lap. Her knees pinned on either side of his hips, grinding down on his stiffening cock. A groan from the back of his throat muffled against her lips before he broke away to kiss his way over to her ear. He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and swirled his tongue around the diamond stud she wore, enjoying the way she squealed and pressed her body harder against his.

She was so responsive to his every touch, arching into him and raking her fingernails over his shirt. He ran his hands lower and squeezed her ass before he drew his fingers over the smooth, pale skin of her thighs and slipped them beneath her dress. His heart was racing and he forced himself to stop before he pushed aside the thin lace of her panties.

“Please,” she breathed, pulling back enough to rest her forehead against his. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. “Please touch me,” she asked before he could say a word.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved the flimsy barrier aside and slid his fingers between her thighs. He sucked a breath between his teeth when he found her so warm and soaking wet. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered when she locked her eyes with his.

“Right there,” she nodded when he started to circle her clit. Her hips rocked against his hand and her hands grabbed at his face again, pulling his lips to hers for a deep kiss. Every roll of her hips ground her down harder on his erection, making him desperate to hear her come, to lose the layers between them and sink into this slick heat until they were both sweating and panting into each other’s mouths.

Darcy moaned around his tongue and her nails dug into his shoulders as he started to speed up. He broke away from her lips and nudged her chin upward to suck a kiss to the pale column of her throat. “Are you gonna come?” he asked, a hushed whisper against her skin.

“Yes,” she inhaled sharply, moving faster in time with his hand. “Yes, _please_.”

She made the most perfect sound when she did a minute later, a sighing moan smothered between her lips that came out more like a whimper. “Good girl,” he kissed her neck again and brought his other hand up to hold her cheek, drawing her face back to his while he slowed his fingers.

She blinked her eyes slowly while he pulled his hand from between her thighs. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath and she kissed him again. Gentler than before, breathing against his lips while she touched his face. “Do you—” she swallowed hard and wet her swollen lips. “Do you want to keep going?”

“Absolutely,” he said, grateful again to be telling the truth.


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything is perfectly fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hii this is just porn. Bon apetit!

ii.

Darcy had not wanted to come to this party. She knew she’d agreed to go when Johnny had mentioned it a few weeks ago, but if she was being honest, she had been hoping he’d change his mind. Tell her he was kidding, that he didn’t expect her to go through with it.

That he didn’t _want_ either of them to go through with it.

But he hadn’t and she’d held up her end of the bargain and before she realized it, she was sitting in another man’s lap with his fingers between her thighs and his lips on her neck and asking— _begging_ —him to make her come.

She didn’t want to think too hard about what that said about her. About her relationship. About anything. She didn’t want to think at all as her fingers flew over the buttons of Steve’s shirt, practically ripping it open and shoving it down over his sculpted shoulders. He shrugged out of it easily and pulled the white shirt he wore beneath it up and over his head, discarding it to the side of the bed.

She tried not to stare, but it was hard to look anywhere other than the lines and ridges of his abdomen or the bulk of his biceps. She ran her hands over his chest again, covered in sparse, dark hair that felt soft beneath her fingers and tried not think how strange and thrilling it was. Johnny always shaved his chest—she’d stopped teasing him about looking like a Backstreet Boy years ago.

Darcy shoved the thought of her fiancé out of her head when Steve took hold of her face and captured her lips in another crushing kiss. His fingers slid down her neck and chest, palming her breasts with a firm squeeze that had her moaning against his lips. He kept one hand there while the other snaked up to the black satin ribbon that held the halter top of her dress closed. She felt his fingers close over one of the ties before he stopped and pulled back from her lips.

“Can I—” he was looking into her face when she opened her eyes. “Can I take this off?”

Darcy’s lips slid into a smile. “Yes,” she said with a giggle. “Man who just gave me an orgasm in five minutes. You can take my dress off.”

She watched with delight as he looked shy for a moment. “It’s Steve,” he reminded her quietly, with far more tenderness than she’d expected. “And maybe I just like hearing you say _yes._ ”

Her stomach swooped as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his ear. “Yes, _Steve_ ,” she whispered. “You can take it off.”

He did, pulling at the ribbon so the top half of her dress dropped, exposing her bra. Steve’s lips fell to her throat again and down further, trailing over her clavicle. She felt flushed and greedy, wanting to feel more of his skin against hers; she took hold of his hands and put them on her hips, urging him to push her dress up and over her head. His eyes roamed down her body and he shook his head. “Jesus,” he said under his breath, sounding so genuine that she had to grab his face again, pressing her lips to his to keep him from seeing the way his gaze made her blush.

He took the hint and gripped her hips tightly, shifting them to lay her back into the bed’s deep pillowtop. She slipped her hands behind her back and unhooked her bra, flinging it aside without a second thought moments before Steve’s lips sealed around her nipple and he rolled the other between his fingers. She would have clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound he pulled out of her, but his tongue felt too good against her sensitive skin to do anything more than arch against him and slide her fingers into his hair.

But despite her trying to hold him in place, he didn’t linger after he’d swirled his tongue over both breasts. She groaned when he pulled away again until she realized he was kissing his way down her belly, sliding down the bed as his fingers hooked into the thin lace at her hips. He looked up from kissing her navel, his eyes dark and full of lust. “Can I?”

She grinned with her nod. “Yes,” she said clearly. “Please.” Her panties were gone with a quick lift of her hips, dropped to the side of the bed with the rest of her clothes. She expected Steve to kiss his way back up to her lips, for her hands to have the chance to grab for his belt and shove the rest of his clothes to the floor. But he kept his lips at her belly, kissing her slowly, lower by a fraction of an inch each time before he looked up again. Darcy blinked at the consent for which he was asking. “Oh my God,” she breathed and covered her eyes, her cheeks pink again. “Seriously?”

Steve’s hands smoothed over her thighs, hooking gently at the back of her knees. “Do you not like that?” he asked, keeping his tone light before he kissed her belly button again.

“No, I _do,_ ” she said, a little too eagerly. “I just wasn’t…” she wet her lips, her blush not going anywhere. “I wasn’t expecting you to want to.”

His fingers cupped her knees more firmly and the edge of his lips lifted in a smile that was somehow shy and salacious at once. “Is that a yes, Darcy?”

“Yes,” the word fell from her tongue before she even had time to think it and Steve pushed her legs further apart and lowered himself between her thighs. He didn’t tease her, didn’t waste time peppering kisses or bites over her skin; his tongue slid into her like she was a treat he’d been waiting for. Darcy’s head fell back, and she forgot about her flushed cheeks and her shyness and how completely out of character this was for her.

Steve was thorough, tracing and tasting every inch of her. When her fingers drifted over his head again, he released his hold on her leg to feed them back into his hair. He groaned when she let her nails scrape against his scalp—the sound like a muffled purr. He spread her open farther and she let out a choked moan as he thrust his tongue in as deep as it could go. “Oh my God,” she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. His eyes flicked up to hers for a long, charged moment before he began to circle her throbbing clit. “Yes,” she heard herself say again. “Oh my God, yes, right there.”

Her fingers curled tighter in his hair when he sealed his lips there and began to suck, pulling his hand from holding her open so he could push two thick fingers inside.

The first time Steve had made her come it had been the kind of easy, predictable wave of pleasure she’d felt a million times before. But as he twisted and crooked his fingers and sucked on her clit with an almost relentless determination, Darcy felt her thighs start to shake. The sounds she could no longer control got louder and rougher and with one final pump of his fingers, she felt something break inside of her, a bolt of electricity that shocked her all the way down to her toes and burst spots behind her eyes, leaving a startling rush of relief behind so intense she nearly sobbed.

Steve had slid off the bed by the time she was able to breathe again and was blinking the world back into focus. She watched him swipe at the mess she’d left over his stubble before he started to unbuckle his belt. “Let me,” she said, forcing feeling back into her fingers and willing herself up onto her hands and knees to crawl over to him. His hands were in her hair again as she slid his belt through the buckle and unbuttoned his pants. She expected him to push her head down with a not-so-subtle suggestion of what he wanted.

But he didn’t. He tilted it up, pulling her gently up onto her knees so he could kiss her again. His mouth was salty and warm, and she felt another flutter in her belly when she opened her lips and stroked her tongue against his, tasting herself.

Steve groaned when she shoved his pants and underwear down, freeing his cock enough that she could reach between them and stroke him. He felt thick and hot and eager in her hand. She reached blindly for the bedside table and the ridiculously abundant bowl of condoms there. He followed her lead and broke their kiss finally, kicking the rest of his clothes away and digging through the bowl to find the right size.

He was quick to slip it on and pulled her back in for another kiss before his lips wandered over to her ear. “What do you want, Darcy?”

She liked the way he said her name. She liked it a little too much if the way she was still melting inside was any indication. “Whatever you want,” she exhaled when he lowered his lips to her neck again. His teeth scraped over the pulse throbbing beneath her ear. She stroked his cock again. “I just want you to fuck me.”

She felt him smile against her throat in the moment before he dropped his hands to her hips and turned her around. She dropped her hands to the mattress and let him pull her hips up, his cock bouncing against her ass for a moment before he lined up and pushed into her with a deep groan. He sank in with a few shallow thrusts until his hips bumped flush against her and she heard him exhale with a quiet, “ _Fuck._ ”

Darcy gripped the comforter, full and stretched, and bit her lip. “God you feel good,” she sighed.

Steve’s short nails scraped up her back and tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as he leaned forward, driving himself deeper inside of her so he could kiss her lips again. “You feel amazing,” he said roughly when he pulled away and mercifully started to move.

He started slower than she would have expected; long, measured thrusts that had them both groaning while his hands gripped her hips tightly, pulling her back against him each time. As good as it felt to have his cock dragging against her just right in this slow delicious burn of intensity, she felt like he was holding back, stopping himself just short of what he wanted.

She looked over her shoulder and met his eyes. “Fuck me harder, Steve,” she said, surprising herself with her directness. “I can take it.”

He smirked again before he leaned back down to capture her lips. “You’re kinda perfect,” he said softly, snapping his hips so she moaned again. “You know that?”

She laughed and shook her head, not knowing what to say to that. To her relief, she didn’t have to say anything because Steve straightened up again and started to move faster. Fucking her harder like she’d asked, filling her so deep and driving his cock into her so she felt drunk and giddy. His fingers dug into the softness of her hips and she didn’t care that she’d have bruises tomorrow. She wanted them, she thought when another mewling cry slipped from her lips. She wanted proof that this really happened. She wanted to press her fingers against the outline of where Steve’s had been and remember the thick drag of his cock and the sounds he was muffling, clenching moans through his jaw.

She cried out when he stopped and pulled out entirely, her body clenching on nothing and missing him immediately until she felt him pulling her hips again, urging her to flip over so she was on her back. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing as she looked up to see Steve looking delightfully wrecked as he grabbed her knees again and yanked her to the edge of the bed. “What are you—”

Steve pumped his cock again and sank back into her, turning her question back into a moan of satisfaction. He shoved the hair back that had fallen into his eyes and smiled around his own ragged breathing. “I just wanted to see your face, pretty girl.”

Darcy felt herself return his smile as her cheeks flushed again. Ridiculous that a man who was fucking her senseless could make her blush with the oldest line in the book. He started to move again, fast and hard as before, chasing his own release with the same determination he’d sought hers. Her body jolted with a shock when his fingers brushed over her clit again and she shook her head. “I can’t,” she whined, pulling him away. “Too sensitive.” He nodded, breathlessly and she held onto his hand, dragging it up to suck his fingers into her mouth. She laved her tongue over the rough pads of his fingertips, loving the way he tried to smother a moan through his lips, managing to only turn it into a strangled sort of whimper.

“I’m gonna come,” he huffed, and she nodded, sucking hard on his fingers the way she would have if she’d had the chance to have his cock in her mouth. _Next time,_ the voice in her head whispered.

And then Steve was coming, his cock throbbing and spilling into the condom; and he was leaning forward to crush his lips to hers with all kinds of filthy praise that made her head fuzzy and it was all just enough to make her forget that there wasn’t going to be a next time.

That wasn’t how this was supposed to work.

***

They had driven separately, as per the suggestion on the invitation, and Darcy wasn’t surprised when she was the first one home. She let herself in and up to the master bathroom where she washed her makeup off and stared at her reflection. The water she splashed onto her face wasn’t enough to quell the flush that had spread all over her body. She stepped out of her clothes for the second time that night and got into the shower, turning it on as hot as she could stand while she covered herself in lavender body wash and tried to relax.

She was fine, she told herself. She was perfectly fine. She had tried something new, just like she’d promised Johnny she would, and she’d had amazing, mind-blowing sex with a total stranger.

That was fine.

People did that all the time.

She wasn’t going to do anything stupid like compare her fiancé and this man she didn’t know, she reminded herself, scrubbing the product out of her hair. Or think about him after she’d calmed down again. Or wonder what succubus had taken up residency under her own skin the second Steve had touched her. What had turned her into that wanton mess who told a perfect stranger that he could do whatever he wanted to her without a second thought? She reached out and flipped the water to cold, resisting the urge to yelp as she stepped back under the spray to rinse her hair and body.

She felt better after a few minutes. She felt like she could breathe again.

She brushed her teeth and braided her hair before she put on her pajamas and climbed into her own bed. It was the same size as the one at Osborn’s mansion, but it felt smaller when she snuggled beneath the covers. Safer and more like home. She turned her nose to the pillow. It smelled like her. Like her and Johnny.

Darcy’s eyelids had just started to feel heavy when she heard the garage door open. She waited, listening to all the predictable sounds of Johnny coming home. His keys by the door. His jacket in the hall closet. His footsteps on the stairs before he appeared in the doorway and smiled, looking sleepy.

Johnny dropped down onto the bed with her on his stomach. “Hey,” he said quietly when she rolled onto her side and curled toward him.

“Hey,” she smiled back, pulling the pillow tighter to her shoulder.

“Did you have fun?”

Darcy blinked in surprise and felt herself nodding. “Yeah, it was…” she laughed a little. “It was a little weird, I guess. But it was fun. Did you?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Little weird,” he admitted. “But I had a great time.” He pushed himself up onto his arms to lean in and kiss her. She didn’t mean to tense the way she did, but the surprising taste caught her off guard. He pulled back, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “You just—” she pursed her lips. “You taste like lipstick.”

Johnny’s expression dropped and he wiped at his lips immediately. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said, so gently she felt bad for even mentioning it. “I should’ve brushed my teeth. I’ll be right back.” He stroked her cheek once before he got up and disappeared into the bathroom.

Darcy stayed in bed and rolled to her back, staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t like the way her stomach had twisted when Johnny said he’d had a great time. That was the point, after all. And it wasn’t like she had anything she could be upset about.

She’d certainly had a great time too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that canonically, Johnny is the one with the chest hair and Steve was the Backstreet Boy but ehhhh I'm imagining more of a nomad Steve in this situation and he's a little scruffier than the clean-cut Mr. Storm. Okay? Okay.


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's a few more lines crossed between friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm a salty grouch. I've been without power for close to 36 hours now and am two days late in posting this chapter because of it. So please be extra kind since the last of electricity means I also have no water heater and therefore have not showered in...
> 
> ...quite some time.
> 
> *whines*

iii.

Monday morning was not kind. Steve had spent the entire weekend pretending he wasn’t thinking about Darcy.

He’d hoped that by the time he had to go back to work, the rush of and hustle of his commute, the morning briefing, and doing follow up on two of his open cases would distract him enough that he could forget about her.

But that hadn’t happened yet.

Every spare second he had, his mind drifted back to Friday night and the memory of her full lips against his, the flush on her fair cheeks, the softness of her curves and her skin under his hands. The things she’d done, the things she’d said, the way she’d laughed when he told her she was perfect while she was begging him to fuck her harder—

An evidence baggie appeared in front of his eyes, breaking the staring competition he was having with his monitor. “Look what I got…” Natasha teased in a singsong voice, giving the bag a little shake before he snatched it from her hands to pull it into focus. She came around and perched on the edge of his desk. “The lab says this stuff is even more pure than the last batch,” she said, pointing to the seized little baggie inside the evidence-sealed plastic. Soft pink, looking like the fancy salt they charged extra for at the grocery store, the drugs glittered like diamonds in the right light. They called it Pink Lady. “I hit the jackpot on Friday,” she went on when he handed it back. “My buddy was a _talker_. And couldn’t _wait_ for me to try this stuff, couldn’t shut up about how good it was and where he knew where I could get more when I wanted it.”

Steve frowned, realizing he hadn’t seen the face of the man Natasha had gone upstairs with. He hadn’t seen much of anything other than Darcy after she’d appeared in front of him.

_Some fuckin’ detective…_

He gave his partner a once over. “You didn’t try any of it, did you?” He figured he already knew the answer; Nat wasn’t stupid enough to try something that had a 60% chance of killing the user their first time trying it out.

“No, of course not,” she scoffed. “I faked it.” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “I faked a lot of things on Friday.”

He snorted and returned to his computer. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“How’d you make out, anyway?” she asked, taking her evidence back as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I saw your date—she was cute.”

He felt certain every filthy thought he’d been entertaining about Darcy was broadcast all over his face. “She wasn’t the font of information your guy was,” he said evenly. “She and her fiancé had never been there before.”

“Mm,” Natasha nodded and helped herself to a sip of Steve’s coffee. “Yeah, my guy’s a regular, apparently. So, in the absence of pumping her for information…” she lifted her eyebrows. “What’d you guys do?”

“We played Parcheesi, Romanov,” Steve muttered, squinting at his screen. “What were we supposed to be doing?”

“Such a gentleman,” she clucked her tongue before she stood up and swatted his shoulder. “Captain wants to see you.” Steve felt himself wince before he could school his features. Natasha scoffed. “I saw that.”

He rolled his eyes and locked his computer before he pushed away from his desk and cross the bullpen. Captain Carter—or Sharon, as he’d called her for the three years they’d been married—was behind her desk and looked up right as he was about to knock on the doorframe. “Come in, Steve.”

“You wanted to see me?”

She motioned for him to close the door and didn’t look up from the legal pad full of her scribbled handwriting when he took a seat. “Romanov said you caught a break with the Pink Lady case. Osborn’s party seems like a place to start for distribution.” She glanced up. “I assume you had just as much luck as she did?”

Steve fought the urge to shift in his chair in front of this woman who knew his every tell and could spot a lie before he could even taste it on his own tongue. “Not exactly as much,” he admitted. “But there were a few people I’d consider more suspicious than others.”

Sharon blinked and appeared to be choosing her words carefully. “Could you provide any more detail than that?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he said evenly. “What you got from Romanov is the best information we have so far regarding Osborn’s connection to Pink Lady.”

“I know you’re not much of a party-goer, Rogers, but you had to have interacted with someone,” she prompted, folding her fingers together above her desk. “I mean, at least one person. If I’m understanding the point of these little shindigs.”

Steve coughed. This was the most interest anyone had shown in his sex life in at least two years. “I…did—interact—with someone,” he said tightly, not wanting to get into any part of this. Not with his Captain. Not with his ex-wife. And absolutely not when they were the same person. “But she didn’t know anything about Osborn’s involvement in distributing the product.”

“She told you that?”

“Not in so many words,” he said, trying to keep his jaw unclenched. “I didn’t come right out and ask her. I was _trying_ maintain my cover.” That only started being a lie the moment Darcy had asked if she could kiss him. Up until that point, he really had been trying to keep his cover. He’d been thinking about the job and Osborn and the teenagers and college students these drugs were killing every weekend.

But after that…

After her lips were on his and she’d climbed into his lap and told him to do whatever he wanted—

He cleared his throat. “She didn’t know anything,” he repeated what he’d told Nat. Even though he said it with such confidence both times and deep down he knew that he only had his gut to go on for proof. “And by the time I realized that, it was a little too late to try and find another…” he coughed one more time. “Partner.”

Sharon’s mouth settled into a firm line. Her hands stayed clasped together, held just below her chin while she considered this. “I see. So. Romanov put herself on the line and managed to gather the best intel we have so far in a case we’ve been unable to break in six months and you…” she lifted her eyebrows. “Went to a party and got laid?”

He sighed and didn’t fight the urge to roll his eyes up to the ceiling. “Is that what you’re mad about?”

Carter stared at him, unphased. “Don’t flatter yourself, Detective,” she said coldly. “I don’t care what you do off the clock. But when you’re back at Osborn’s this weekend, do us both a favor and try to remember that you’re working?”

It was his turn to blink. “Back this weekend?”

“Unless they’ve changed the way police work works, Rogers,” she stood up and started shuffling her notes and files together. “When you catch a lead, you follow it.” She looked at him, waiting until he got to his feet before she continued. “And since Romanov caught the only lead we have at Osborn’s party, I’d be a pretty useless commanding officer if I didn’t send you back there as soon as possible.” She stared at him expectantly. “Any questions?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am.”

She dismissed him with a nod and a request that he close the door behind him. He made his way back to his desk, deliberately not getting too close to any stray trashcans to avoid the temptation of kicking one in his frustration.

“In trouble with the ex?” Sam asked with a half-smile tugging at his lips. He was leaning in the same spot Natasha had occupied a few minutes earlier.

He shook his head and dropped down into his chair, leaning his head back to run a hand over his face. “Nah, she just wanted to make sure I knew how much better of a cop Romanov is compared to me.”

“Mm,” Sam hummed thoughtfully. “No argument there.”

“I didn’t say there should be one,” he reminded dully.

Sam swatted his shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, man. You’re a good cop.”

“You’re also an idiot who should’ve transferred out when Sharon got promoted from your ex-wife to your boss.” Bucky’s voice surprised him, coming from his other side, leaning in almost the same pose as Sam.

“Yeah,” he muttered returning his gaze to the ceiling. “You’re not wrong.” He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Hey, Buck,” he looked up at again. “This whole thing Nat and I are doing—it doesn’t bother you?”

He shrugged. “Should it?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just curious.”

“It’s just work,” he said like he was talking filing reports or sitting on a boring stakeout. “We’ve all done shit we don’t mean when we’re undercover, haven’t we?”

Sam was already nodding and rolling his shoulder in agreement, so Steve nodded too. He had, of course. Bucky wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, no, you’re right,” he heard himself say, trying not to think about Darcy again and the way everything about being with her had felt so perfectly right. “It’s just work. It doesn’t mean anything.”

***

A month. Darcy had told Johnny she’d give this suggestion of his a try for a month and see if she liked it. When she’d made that promise, she hadn’t thought she’d need a month to know that she didn’t like it—that she didn’t want to be a swinger or have an open relationship—but she knew that psychologically speaking, less than a month was not enough time to actually give something a chance.

She knew it wasn’t the craziest thing anyone had ever suggested to spice up their sex life. And she knew that it wasn’t a reflection on her or anything she was or wasn’t doing that had Johnny suggesting it in the first place. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t enjoyed herself—she could see the appeal. The excitement of someone new. The thrill of doing something taboo without any consequences.

But she didn’t want to go back. She didn’t think it was likely that she’d be lucky enough to meet someone as kind as Steve had been two weeks in a row.

She doubted he’d even be there again. Was it normal to go to the same party two weeks in a row? Did everyone do that? What determined whose name wound up on the guest list of one of these things?

These were the questions that rolled through her head while she got ready on Friday night. Questions followed by the now-constant urge she was fighting to _not_ think about the previous week. About Steve and his rough hands and soft voice and his hair that fell into his face and his fucking _tongue—_

She told herself she didn’t care if he was there again this week. But that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t _want_ him to be there this week. She didn’t want to see him again and be reminded of how ridiculously handsome he was, or have to accidentally look him in the eye after he knew how she tasted and what she sounded like when she was begging for his cock.

But mostly, she didn’t want him to be there because she didn’t want to watch him draw someone else’s keys. Didn’t want to think about him doing all those things he’d done with her, with someone else.

The tug-of-war of _that_ train of thought, coupled with the guilt she felt for jealousy over _Steve_ , a total stranger, instead of the man she was supposed to marry had Darcy convinced she was not the right kind of person to embrace the swinger lifestyle.

Johnny was already there when she arrived. He greeted her with a kiss and her favorite drink, told her she looked beautiful. His arm stayed around her waist while they mingled, his hand resting on her hip, making her feel grounded and safe while wishing that this was a different kind of party. That she wasn’t twisted into a knot wondering who was going to pull her keys. That she could just enjoy herself and not be looking around the room, not sure if she was hoping to see someone else or hoping not to.

It didn’t matter what she was hoping, though, because Steve was already there, his gorgeous, lethal-looking girlfriend on his arm again. They were surrounded by a small group, heads bent together, Steve nodding intently at whatever the man speaking was saying. Every so often there’d be a burst of laughter from their little circle, smacks to shoulders like they were old chums. Darcy made herself focus on another point in the room, pretend she didn’t see him. They were a beautiful couple, she noted, catching a glimpse of them in one of the mirrors around the room. She wondered how long they’d been together; if coming to these parties was something Steve had agreed to just to keep his partner happy or if he was more into the idea than he’d let on when she first met him last week.

“Hey,” Johnny’s voice in her ear pulled her back as he gave her a quick squeeze. “You okay?”

She nodded, looking at him and forcing a smile. “I’m fine,” she said before she shrugged. “Maybe a few butterflies.”

He looked concerned as he reached out and tucked one of her curls behind her ear. “Too many to stay?” he asked, surprising her.

 _Yes,_ she should have said. _Yes, I don’t want to be here. Let’s go home and forget we ever tried this._ But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was, “No, no, I’m fine. I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” he asked, studying her closely.

Her second chance to tell him the truth and leave only lasted a few seconds before Norman Osborn stepped into the room and commanded the attention of his guests.

It was too late anyway, she told herself. What was she going to do? Dig through the bowl for the keys she’d surrendered? Apologize to the teenager Osborn called his wife and thank them both for a lovely evening?

She turned her head and pressed her lips to Johnny’s. “I’m okay,” she promised. “I love you,” she added quietly, brushing her nose against his.

She could feel him smile as he traded her another soft kiss. “I love you too, kiddo.”

The rattle of metal against glass jarred away the pleasant feeling she had, hearing Johnny call her by her pet name. They broke apart and turned to find Osborn’s wife holding out the fishbowl of car keys. “Take your pick, Mr. Storm,” she purred, giving the bowl a little shake.

She gave her fiancé one more kiss before she looked away, not wanting to see who belonged to the keys he pulled. Not sure what to do with the nearly nauseated feeling in her stomach as she scanned the room, wondering with whom she’d be spending the rest of the party.

And then she stopped.

Darcy felt Johnny squeeze her hand and press his lips to her temple with a whisper to have fun, but she couldn’t focus on him anymore. She’d managed to catch Steve’s eye again and felt her own eyes widen, her attention narrow to his hand and the keys he held up.

Her keys.

Darcy’s mouth went dry and slack. The room was starting to empty out as couples paired off and slipped away to darker corners of the house. She felt her feet moving on their own, crossing the room to where Steve was standing to grab his hand, taking him with her up the stairs without a word to the same room they’d used before.

No one said anything until she’d closed and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it, her hands between the cool wood and her tailbone. Steve set her keys on the dresser. “Darcy, I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean to?” she asked, her heart thudding somewhere in her throat.

Steve inhaled slowly and exhaled. “No,” he said, glancing down at his feet before he looked back. “No, I meant to. I just know I shouldn’t have—”

For the second time in a row, Darcy interrupted him. This time, she’d crossed the room to where he stood and laced her hands behind his neck, pulling him down for a hard kiss, shocking herself in her own desperation.

Steve responded immediately. His hands went to her hips, the material of her dress fisted between his fingers as he scooped her up, lifting her off the ground like she weighed nothing at all. Her legs wrapped around his narrow hips and her ankles hooked together as he turned them and sat her on the edge of the dresser. Her mouth opened for his and her belly swooped as a bolt of liquid head shot through her at the moan he let out when he sucked her tongue into his mouth.

She dragged her fingers down his neck and over his chest, yanking his button-down from his pants before she opened it and shoved it over his shoulders. He whined when she pushed him away to pull his undershirt over his head. Her hands were greedy when they touched his skin this time, like she’d been starved for the week they’d been apart and had just been told she could have all she wanted. Her nails scraped down his back when he dropped his mouth to her neck and she felt herself melting as his lips and his tongue moved over her pulse.

Steve’s hands were roaming, pushing her dress up and over her thighs before he hooked his fingers at the lace on her hips. His request for permission was silent this time and the three second pause was all Darcy needed to lift her hips and let him slide her panties down her legs. “I want to taste you again,” he murmured the words over her throat and Darcy had to fight to keep her head from rolling back and crashing into the mirror.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, running her fingers into his hair to pull him up for another deep kiss before she broke away, nodding. “Yes, please.”

He was on his knees almost before the words had left her lips. His tongue slid into her with familiarity that had her whimpering as he took hold of her ankles and pushed her heels up onto the dresser, spreading her legs as far as he could. The sounds he was making were obscene, wet and hungry, moaning into her while he lapped at her cunt like he’d been starving for the taste of her.

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” she sighed as her hands fell to his head again, holding him in place when he worked his tongue like he’d memorized what she liked. Like they’d been doing this for years. He sealed his lips around her clit and she let her head fall back with an embarrassingly loud groan, not caring that it crashed against the mirror. Not caring about anything except the orgasm Steve was wrenching from her with his lips, his tongue, his fingers.

She came with loud cry she didn’t bother to muffle, her thighs snapping around his head while he kept going, kept his lips right where they were, kept crooking his fingers until her vision went white and her body turned boneless and weak with the relief and pleasure he’d just wrung from her.

He sat back on his heels and reached for his discarded t-shirt, using it wipe his face before he gently took hold of one of her feet and pressed a kiss to her ankle. Her heels had landed somewhere behind him; she didn’t remember when she’d lost them. Steve’s eyes were clear and bright, and a half smile tugged at the corner of his lips like he was proud of himself. “I like the sounds you make when you come,” he said softly and kissed her leg again, a little higher up her calf this time.

Darcy let out a breathless, shaky laugh and covered her face. “Holy fucking shit,” she exhaled as the feeling started to return to her fingers. She held out her hands to him. “Help me down.” He stood up, grinning, and helped her off the edge of the dresser. She grabbed hold of his belt and spun them so he was the one pressed against the drawers as she slid the leather through the buckle and paused with her hands on his buttons before she looked up. Without her shoes she was much shorter than he was. Her head would fit right under his chin if he wrapped her in a hug. She blinked and pushed that thought away, not wanting to look at it too closely. Not wanting to examine why the thought of him hugging her felt more intimate than what she was about to say. “I really want to suck your cock,” she blurted out, the boldness in her request a shock to her own ears. She bit her lip. “If that’s okay.”

Steve’s chest rose and fell with an uneven breath. “That’s—uh—” he was fighting another half-smile. “Yeah, that’s—okay.”

She grinned and stretched up onto her toes to brush her lips to his for a quick kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered before she returned her attention to the clasp of his pants and got to her knees.

He let out a groan as soon as her lips were around him. His hands went straight into her hair, sending a thrill down to her belly. She loved that he wasn’t afraid to show her what he liked—she wanted to make this as good as he’d been to her. Her tongue swirled over the head of his cock before she took him deeper into her mouth, getting him as wet as she could, tracing veins and ridges with each bob she made up and down, giving into the tug and pull of his fingers in her hair, doing more of what was making him muffle another moan between his lips. Her hand wrapped around the base and she sealed her it to her lips, pumping slowly while she tightened her mouth, sucking like she had on his fingers, like she’d been thinking about doing all week.

He liked that. If the way his thighs had started to tremble were any indication; or the sounds he ground through his teeth, groans and breathy little inhales as his fingers tightened in her curls, urging her to go faster until he pulled her off entirely, shaking his head. “Let me fuck you sweetheart,” he said around a heavy exhale as she sat back, surprised, and wiped at the corners of her mouth.

Darcy nodded eagerly and was still struggling to get to her feet by the time Steve retrieved a condom and had slid it on.

He pulled her up and gripped her hips. “Bed or dresser?” he asked with a spark of mischief in his eyes.

She giggled. “Dresser?”

He hoisted her up as he kissed her, grinning against her lips when she let out a little squeak of surprise when he set her back down. She scooted herself to the edge again and grabbed his hips, stroking him once as he lined himself up and sank into her with one fluid thrust. His one hand went to her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as the other fell to her neck. “Goddamnit I missed you,” he sighed into her ear as he set a smooth, steady rhythm.

“I missed you too,” she admitted, tilting her head so he could suck on her earlobe. She knew she shouldn’t say that. She knew they’d already broken the rules, technically, that this wasn’t how swinging was supposed to work.

But they’d already broken the rules.

They’d already crossed a line—wherever it was, it was somewhere well behind them—and all she could think was that she _had_ missed him, and she wanted him to know that.

He snapped his hips a little harder, pulling her even closer to the edge of the dresser top. Darcy’s hands went to his arms, his shoulders. There was so much of him, she thought with a grin as his teeth scraped over her racing pulse. He had picked her up like she was a rag doll—like she weighed hardly anything. She wondered if he’d bat an eye at fucking her against the wall.

The thought alone made her clench around him with a groan that he echoed before he drew her lips back to his for another deep kiss. His tongue swept over hers and she dragged her nails over his shoulders, hoping to leave a mark.

Darcy broke their kiss again to pull his fingers into her mouth. Breathing hard, Steve locked his eyes with hers as she got his fingertips nice and wet before she dragged them from between her lips and pressed them to her clit. His fingers began to move right away, circling in time with the speed he thrust into her, harder still and faster than before. Darcy found herself desperate and whining with each drag of his cock until Steve leaned in and sealed his lips to hers again, muffling the sounds she was making against his lips. She opened her mouth again and sucked on his tongue, jolting her hips to meet his movements until his fingers slid over her just right and she felt her whole body clench around him, her orgasm taking her by surprise.

“Atta girl,” Steve breathed against her lips. “Let go, I got you.”

“Steve, I—” she squirmed and clawed at the back of his neck as he rested his forehead against hers and bore down harder on her clit. Hard as it was to keep her eyes open as that warm wave of pleasure rippled over her, she didn’t want to miss a moment of being able to look at him. Her fingers laced together, and she pulled him in for a kiss that left them both breathing against each other’s open mouths. “I want you to come, Steve,” she said.

He was breathing hard as he nodded and gripped her hips tighter, fucking her harder and faster as he chased his own release. Their gaze stayed locked, their sweaty foreheads pinned together, breathing and hearts racing at the same pace until he jerked suddenly, nearly pulling her completely off the dresser as a sound almost like a sob was ripped from his throat. He dropped his head then, burying his face in her neck with long, slow kisses as he came, pumping into her a few more times. “You’re so good,” she heard him whisper below her ear. “You’re so fucking good.”

“So are you,” she sighed, raking her hand up into his hair again, scratching gently at his scalp. And while that was true—that was remarkably true—it wasn’t just that Steve was so good. It was that they were so good together.

He gathered her up in his arms, surprising her into wrapping herself tightly around him again, and turned them so he could lie her back on to the deep pillowtop of the bed before he pulled out. Darcy felt stretched and empty and hollow when he did, the seconds it took him to get rid of the condom in the adjoining bathroom felt like a lifetime. She’d barely moved at all by the time he returned and laid down next to her.

He propped his head up on one fist and reached over to trail his fingers gently over the curve of her face. She glanced over to see his gaze drift down her body and back up again. “I wish I’d taken this dress off,” he murmured.

She felt the blush stain her cheeks before she could stop it. She rolled to her side, reaching over for Steve’s face to pull him in for a long, slow kiss. His arm swept down her back, holding her close to him. So much strength and so much gentleness she wanted to cry. She pulled away first and stayed tucked into him, their noses brushing, breath warming the air between them.

His thumb drifted over the dip of her tailbone. “I guess we should probably go home,” he asked after a long silence had passed between them. “Shouldn’t we?”

Darcy swallowed hard and forced down the alarming rush of emotion that had filled her throat. “Yeah,” she whispered back with a small nod. “We probably should.”

He helped her back up so they could reassemble themselves. Steve righted most of her curls for her, his fingers lingering in her hair longer than necessary while she straightened her dress and swiped at the makeup under her eyes. She stretched up on her toes to offer him one more kiss, trying not to linger as she tried to memorize the shape and feel of his lips against hers.

Her fingernails drifted down his re-buttoned shirt as she sank back down into her shoes. “I won’t be here next week,” she said softly. “We have to go out of town for a—” she stopped and shook her head, forcing herself to take a step back. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

But Steve’s hand went to her elbow and kept her from putting too much space between them. “No, I’m—” He looked thoughtful as he shook his head. “I’m glad you did. I would’ve…” he paused again, seeming to debate if he wanted to keep going. “I would have looked for you.”

***

This time when she got home and got into the shower, Darcy didn’t bother telling herself she was fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: Pink Lady may be a real drug but I don't know what it is and so I named this magical deadly designer drug after the girly-ass cocktail I used to order from my favorite spot downtown :)


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this chapter is more, Porn What Porn? or Plot without the Porn. But I had to work it in SOMEHOW, right? I mean. Shit had to start happening sooner or later.

iv.

Darcy knew Sue Storm before she met Johnny. They’d worked in labs across the hall from one another. Bumping into each other in line for coffee, commiserating about departmental budget cuts and colleagues with wandering eyes.

It wasn’t until Darcy had been in DC for a year that Johnny returned from the ISS and two weeks after that, he walked into her lab by mistake looking for his sister.

Darcy was digging in the back supply closet when she heard the door open. She was so cold her fingernails were blue as she found the batteries she was looking for. “Jane, I swear to God, I’m turning up the heat and taking away your thermostat privileges!” she’d shouted to her partner as she climbed down from the step ladder, yanking her cardigan tighter around herself as she made her way back to their shared workspace. “It’s so cold in here I think I could cut diamonds on my nipples and oh my God,” she’d blurted out, stopping in her tracks at the sight of the man at the door. “You are not Jane Foster.”

He was tall and handsome with a strong jaw, long eyelashes, and dark hair buzzed close to his head. He had a great smile, too, despite the way he was trying to suppress it. “Uh, no,” he said after a second. “And you’re not my sister.” He looked around, still amused, while Darcy’s face burned in embarrassment. “But this lab seems like a lot more fun, honestly.” Before she could wish for the floor to swallow her up, he’d extended a hand. “I’m Johnny,” he said, his voice was deep and sounded like it might always have a smile you could hear beneath his words. “I was looking for Dr. Storm.”

Darcy shook the hand he’d offered her, still blushing, and nodded. “I’m Dr. Lewis. Uh—Darcy—” she fumbled, reaching up to push her glasses back into place. “Dr. Darcy Lewis. You’re Sue’s brother? The astronaut?”

He grinned, still holding her hand. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Uh,” she’d coughed. “She talks about you a lot. She’s—” she went to motion to Sue’s lab when the door opened again and the woman in question appeared, followed closely by Jane. “She’s right here, apparently.”

“Hey,” Sue had greeted her brother breathlessly. “I told you to wait in the lobby.”

Johnny shrugged as Darcy stepped back and kissed his sister’s cheek. “I got bored. Figured I could find my way around.”

Sue looked from him to Darcy and back again. “And yet here you are, in the wrong lab.”

He shrugged innocently. “You know how I love an adventure, Susie.”

She’d let out an affectionate sigh and rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she’d nodded toward the door. “You owe me lunch.” She looked back at Darcy. “Sorry if he was bothering you, Darce.”

“Not at all,” Darcy had said with a smile as he waved to her before holding the door for his sister. “Nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” he’d said with another grin, this one directed right at her. Enough to make her stomach flip. “Hope your nipples thaw out soon.”

Darcy’s blush had returned with a vengeance as she offered a meek wave back. “Thank you.”

She could hear Sue scolding him the whole way down the hall. Jane had studied her carefully. “What was that about?”

“It was nothing,” she had said, convinced she was telling the truth. “I’m pretty sure he just likes to flirt.”

She hadn’t expected him to come back a few days later and ask her out for coffee. But he had. And he’d come back the day after that coffee date, and the one after that. Until a second date had turned into a third, into a tenth, into two years, into a full-blown relationship and a townhouse and the promise of forever with the sparkling solitaire that decorated her left hand.

They’d been engaged for almost six months, but they hadn’t started planning anything. No one was in a rush, and it was a little difficult to think about planning a wedding when Sue and Reed’s nuptials were all anyone was allowed to talk about for the last eleven months.

Darcy had always liked Sue, had always admired her tenacity and the way she devoted herself to solving every problem that crossed her path. But she’d never met anyone who planned a wedding like they were going into battle. She hadn’t even known there _were_ so many decisions to make until Sue asked her to be a bridesmaid and she found herself on the panel of women expected to peer review each and every one as it was made. Colors. Fabrics. Flowers. Centerpieces. Favors. Appetizers. Music. Lighting. Shoes. Darcy was starting to tense every time her phone lit up for any reason.

By the time Sue and Reed were officially Dr. and Dr. Richards, Darcy was ready to pass out and sleep for a week. Her feet were aching when she dropped down into her chair at the head table. All the decisions Sue had agonized over, the glamour of the venue, the golden light of sunset falling across the Manhattan skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the string quartet—all of it was lost on Darcy as she yanked off her shoes and let her head fall onto the heel of her hand.

“Bad time to ask for a dance, pretty eyes?”

She heard Johnny’s voice the moment before his hands dropped onto her bare shoulders. He pressed his thumbs into her usual trouble spots and was smiling down at her when she tilted her head back to look at him. “Would you settle for a sort of…half-asleep shuffle?” she asked, returning his smile. “Bonus points if you let me stand on your feet so I don’t even have to do that much.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I have a better idea,” he said softly. “How about I swipe a bottle of champagne from the bar, and we sneak out of here before Sue finds some other favor she needs from either of us.”

Darcy bit her lip. “Yes, to the champagne and yes, to leaving,” she said hesitantly. “But no to sneaking out. I want to say goodbye first.”

Johnny’s heavy sigh was mostly a performance; she caught the hint of a smile tugging at his lips before he stepped beside her and tilted her chin up for a real kiss. “You are so much better than me.”

Their suite was only upstairs and after pulling herself out of a crushing hug from Sue, Darcy hobbled barefoot from the elevator. Johnny pulled their room key from his jacket pocket before he stopped and studied her. He held out the champagne. “You take this,” he suggested and then crouched down in front of her and looked back. “Come on,” he said with a smile. “These hallways are ten miles long. Hop on.”

Darcy groaned in relief and draped herself over his shoulders, hitching her burgundy bridesmaids’ dress up over her hips as Johnny wrapped his arms around her legs and hugged her snugly against him. He managed to get them both down the hall and into their room before he carried her over and dropped her, giggling, onto the bed.

She watched him pull on the knot of his bow tie and shrug out of his jacket while she held her breath and unzipped the side of her dress. She could slither out of it easily, finally able to take a full inhale when it was a pile of silk and georgette on the floor beside the bed. Johnny turned around and grinned when his eyes roamed over her in her strapless bra and control-top pantyhose that went halfway up her midsection. “Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “I know I’m a vision.”

He dropped down onto the bed beside her, propping his head up on his fist. “You are,” he assured her. His other hand drifted over her clavicle and down her arm. “I’ve missed you, kiddo." Darcy felt her nose wrinkle in confusion as he leaned down to brush his lips to hers. “What?” he asked, pulling back.

“Nothing,” she shook her head. “That’s just…surprising to hear.”

“Surprising?” he repeated lightly with a little laugh.

She fought the urge to squirm, wishing she hadn’t said anything. “I meant nice,” she lied. “It’s nice to hear.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said, his tone still light. “Why are you surprised that I’ve missed you?”

It was too late to try to backpedal again. “Because you’re the one who wanted us to fuck other people.”

Johnny blinked, his expression folded in confusion. “What? Where did that come from? I meant I hardly got to see you all week because Sue and Reed had us both running all over the city. Not because—” he sat up, looking hurt. “Jesus, Darcy. Is that what you think?”

She closed her eyes and brought a hand over her face. “No,” she said, mostly out of habit. “No, I don’t—” she stopped and struggled to sit up, the thick waistband of her stockings cutting into her skin painfully. “Shit,” she muttered. “I’m sorry. I’m exhausted. I don’t know what I’m saying.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, desperately wishing she had already taken her contacts out. “Just forget I said anything.”

He let out a mirthless laugh. “It’s a little hard to forget a slip like that, Darce,” he scoffed. “And just so we’re clear, I was just throwing out suggestions,” he went on, getting to his feet and crossing to lean against the mini bar, his arms crossed over his chest. “I didn’t actually think you’d agree to the whole swinger party thing.”

She felt her eyes widen as her brows lifted. “Then why did you bring it up like it was something you couldn’t wait to do?”

“I was just thinking out loud!” he exclaimed. “Christ. I was trying not to…” he struggled for a moment. “I didn’t want to do what I always do—”

“Which is?”

“Get…bored,” the word fell off his tongue after another moment of struggle. “Get restless. Go looking for the next, new thing—”

It was her turn to scoff as she got up and rolled her eyes. “Oh for God’s sake. If you love someone and you don’t want to get bored with them, then you don’t get bored.” She folded her arms over her stomach, feeling too exposed to be fighting like this. Wishing she had put on something else. “You don’t…engineer this built-in infidelity so you can pretend like you’re _not_ bored.”

“Built-in infidelity?” he repeated, sounding genuinely confused. “That’s not what it’s…” he shook his head. “Where is this coming from? I’ve told you a million times we don’t have to go back if you don’t want to—”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to!” she threw up her hands. They needed to stop or she was going to blurt out something she couldn’t take back. Something that would make it obvious that she had too much guilt about how she’d been spending her time at those parties. Something that would let slip how often her thoughts turned to Steve when they should have been on her fiancé.

Across the room, Johnny raised his eyebrows. “So, are you mad at me for suggesting it? Or are you mad because you’re enjoying yourself?”

“I—I’m—” Darcy felt herself deflate under the weight of his gaze. She didn’t want to fight. Didn’t want to spoil what little time off they had together with this idiotic back and forth. “I’m mostly mad because I didn’t used to have to think this much when it came to you and me.”

That was true. Being with Johnny had always felt effortless. Inevitable. Every step of their relationship felt logical and like it had already been determined long before they’d even met. Even though people who knew them said they couldn’t be more different, Darcy had always felt like they fit—a perfect counterbalance to each other. She didn’t like feeling like they’d fallen out of sync. Like someone had pulled the rug out from under her.

Johnny softened as she sank back down on the edge of the bed. He knelt down in front of her and brought his hands up to hold her face. “Hey,” he said gently. “There’s nothing to think about when it comes to you and me. I love you,” he said, holding her eyes with his. A quiet determination glowing beneath his words. “I love you and I want to be with you, okay?” His thumb swiped over her cheek. “I want to be the kind of man you deserve.”

Darcy felt a lump rise in her throat as she nodded and leaned in press her lips to his. “I love you too,” she said against his lips. Because she did. She loved him so much and she knew he was trying to be better. To be what he thought she deserved in his own backwards way that didn't make any sense to her. She didn't want to think about anything beyond his kisses. His promises. The way she melted under his warm hands every time he touched her. “I don’t want to fight anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed immediately while her fingers drifted down to his chest and she started undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. Their lips met again, a longer, slower kiss that he broke to shrug out of his shirt before he reached for her again. “But we can stop with the parties if that’s what you want—”

“I didn’t say that,” she said, pulling him for another kiss as he reached behind her to unclasp her bra.

***

The tip to attend Strucker’s party was one Steve picked up from their last weekend at Osborn’s. Grateful he had something to hand to Sharon on Monday morning, Steve had set about securing himself and Natasha an invitation to this new house with a different—more exclusive, according to his tipster—guest list.

Bigger house. More people. More booze and less shame about things like the lines of cocaine set up on the bar or the Molly he was offered as soon as he walked in the door the following Friday night.

And different rules.

At Strucker’s, at least that night, it was Ladies’ Night. He had to surrender his keys when he dropped off his coat. A move that made him anxious, made him feel like prey, made him wonder if this was how most of the women felt when they dropped their own keys in the bowl week after week.

He didn’t think he’d been imagining the look of relief on Darcy’s face when he’d picked her keys the second week in a row. It made even more sense now. At least they knew each other. At least she knew he’d be kind to her.

At least, he thought she knew that. He certainly hoped she knew that.

Steve shook his head and forced himself to focus. The woman across the room who drew his keys was small and willowy with long, red hair and large eyes. She wore a lot of bracelets around her thin wrists and a dress that touched the floor and made her look like she was floating. Like there was a little bit of magic in the way she moved. She found him and offered him back his keys with a nervous half-smile before she took his hand and led him to one of the bedrooms on the first floor.

He closed and locked the door behind them, fighting the twist in his gut. He didn’t want to do this again. Not with someone else. Someone who wasn’t Darcy. He forced himself to settle as he turned from the door and saw her perched nervously at the edge of the bed. “It’s nice to—uh—”

“Natasha said I didn’t have to have sex with you,” she said, surprising him with a thick, lilting accent. She sounded Polish—maybe Russian. He couldn’t place it in his surprise.

“I’m…sorry?”

“I mean,” she moved a shoulder. “If you really want to, we can but—”

He blinked, shaking his head. “No, what did you say? Natasha told you—” Before he could finish his thought, the door to the adjoining bathroom opened and his partner stepped out. “What the fuck…”

“Connecting rooms,” Nat shrugged as if this was part of the script.

“Where’s your date?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Natasha motioned back to the bathroom. “He had an unexpected urge to take a nap as soon as we got to our room.” She crossed to sit next to Steve’s date and put her arm around the other woman’s narrow shoulders. “Steve, this is Wanda Maximioff. She’s been working for Strucker for the last two years and she has a _lot_ she’s willing to tell us.”

“If—” Wanda held up a hand.

“If we work out a deal for immunity for her and her brother with the DEA,” Natasha nodded. “Which I told her we can do.”

Still reeling from the relief that this had been a set-up, that he wasn’t going to have to untangle his job from his feelings for Darcy and all the waves of unprofessionalism that came along with that train of thought, Steve shook his head. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, of course we can. So long as your information is solid.”

“It is,” Wanda said with a quiet confidence. “I promise.”

Steve grabbed an armless, upholstered chair from the corner and pulled it up to sit in front of their newest informant. “Okay Wanda,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What can you tell us?”

She looked from him to Natasha once before she swallowed and then cleared her throat. “Osborn, Strucker…there are a few others as well. They don’t just sell…” she coughed again before she looked up from the fingers she was twisting together in her lap. “It’s not just drugs that they’re selling to some of the people who come to these parties. I mean. It is at Osborn's," she amended her statement. "But here? Here or at Zola's...” She pursed her lips and Steve saw Nat’s hand squeeze her shoulder. “It’s people, too.” She looked down a second time. “Usually it’s kids.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it wasn't too hard to slog through. Love you kittens.

**Author's Note:**

> *holds out hands* 
> 
> Thoughts and comments?
> 
> :-*


End file.
